


Hold That Thought

by d_dandelions



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bladder Control, Established Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Canon-Typical Monster Slaying, Omo Thirst Trap Jaskier, Omorashi, Very minor humiliation, Watersports, Wetting, bladder control in increments, but like slow burn bladder control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25059808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_dandelions/pseuds/d_dandelions
Summary: Geralt likes to make Jaskier wait
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 31
Kudos: 319
Collections: Witcher Omorashi





	Hold That Thought

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaos_monkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_monkey/gifts), [ssleif](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssleif/gifts).



> Content Warnings: There's a bit of non-kinky wetting in the first couple of paragraphs but I don't go too much into it and you can probably just skip it if it's really not your thing. Also they don't communicate quite as well as they probably should but I think/hope it comes across that Jaskier's completely fine with everything that's happening and could say no at any time if it got to be too much.
> 
> Enjoy the piss!

Immediately after it happens Jaskier realises he was probably never in that much danger to begin with but, in the moment, with Geralt fighting two rotfiends and another emerging, shrieking, _way too close_ to where Jaskier was crouched, ostensibly hiding but really hoping for a good view, he hadn’t thought, only panicked. He’d scrambled gracelessly as far back into the bushes as he could, ears ringing and heart racing, as Geralt had landed a fatal blow on one rotfiend and dodged to the side as it exploded. The other two had been close enough to get caught up in the spray of viscera, leading to the most grotesque chain reaction Jaskier’s ever had the displeasure of witnessing and, just like that, the fight is over and the danger has passed.

It’s only after Jaskier manages to get his panicked breathing back under control that he becomes aware of the distinctly _clammy_ feeling between his thighs, quickly growing cold in the night air, and realises with a hot rush of humiliation that he’s actually _pissed himself_. 

_Gods_. He’d liked these trousers and he’d been doing such a good job so far keeping them free of any monster guts. Fuck. Well, there’s a stream right next to their camp, not too far of a walk from the now rotfiend-free clearing, and he’ll hopefully be able to wash himself off before Geralt has the chance to notice and worry. With any luck the lingering necrophage smell will cover that of his accident until then. He braces himself for an uncomfortable walk back and follows after Geralt.

Geralt sniffs slightly as Jaskier awkwardly shuffles past him to the river and the bard winces. Should have known better than to try and sneak something like this past a witcher. Thankfully, after a quick glance over to make sure he’s not hurt and a near-imperceptible widening of his eyes as the state of Jaskier’s trousers confirms what his nose had told him, Geralt looks away and lets him strip without comment.

As Jaskier washes away the last evidence of his shame in the cold water he decides he’s going to make special mention of his beloved White Wolf’s mercy in his next ballad. 

**

Except then it does come up, sort of, indirectly, a week later after a particularly foul contract leaves Geralt in dire need of a bath and Jaskier in need of memory-altering quantities of alcohol. The bath is accomplished first and, with that stench finally cleared, Jaskier feels much more able to pry Geralt for details from the hunt over their ale. 

“There simply isn’t any romance in a drowner infested sewer, I’m afraid, even a lyricist of my talent can _not_ make a compelling tale from slime and rotting waste. I’m going to have to change it for the song-“

“You should go.”

“-and your descriptions, my dear witcher, still leave a lot to…..what?”

Geralt doesn’t mean he wants to part ways, Jaskier thinks. It’s been a very long time since he’d made any genuine attempt to drive Jaskier off. This thing that’s grown between them has been….well it’s been rather wonderful and they’re both benefitting immensely from not having to seek partners elsewhere. At the very least they’re both benefitting from _Jaskier_ not having to seek partners elsewhere. So when Geralt says go, Jaskier’s sure he doesn’t mean leave. Mostly sure.

“You should go and relieve yourself, we’ll be leaving soon.”

Jaskier hadn’t really been expecting _that_ either. 

He stutters indignantly and unintelligibly for a few moments, flushing a deep red, part of him wishing he was still standing vigil outside that filthy sewer and not here having _this_ conversation.

“I’m not a _child_ Geralt!”

“Hmm.” Amused. A little patronising. The prick. 

Humiliatingly he really does need to go, badly enough that he’s not confident he can wait until they stop again for the night. Worse than going now _because Geralt told him to_ would surely be refusing to and then having to stop later so, with as much dignity as he can muster, Jaskier leaves their table for the privy. He doesn’t look back but he feels the heavy heat of Geralt’s gaze on him with every step. 

**

It happens again, not exactly often but enough that Jaskier is conscious of it. Without a hint of embarrassment Geralt will tell Jaskier to relieve himself before they set out on a hunt, before they leave the tavern for their room at the inn, once, even, before Jaskier started a performance and his face had heated just at the thought of anyone overhearing. At first he’d worried that Geralt was mocking him but his witcher isn’t cruel. He’s lived with the messy realities of life on the Path for longer than most humans have been alive and, despite his lack of social graces, he’s never been truly judgemental when Jaskier struggles with them. His second theory was that Geralt was genuinely trying to help him avoid future embarrassment in his clumsy, unpracticed way but he rejects that idea almost as quickly as the first. There’s something about it that just doesn’t quite fit with the intensity of Geralt’s eyes whenever he watches him leave for his relief. 

It’s as if seeing Jaskier… well seeing him _like that_ during that _incident_ changed something in the way Geralt looks at him. He touches and fucks Jaskier just the same as before but the bard is left with a pervading sense that he’s _testing_ something, to figure out what he wants or determine where some as-of-yet unspoken boundary lies, and Jaskier isn’t quite sure yet where it’s all going to lead. 

The worst part is the supernatural awareness Geralt seems to have developed for Jaskier’s bladder capacity. He’s always _right_ , always speaking out just when Jaskier’s starting to become a little too conscious of his own needs. He wonders, absently, if Geralt can smell it on him but he’s not going to lower himself to ask. Not if he can avoid it. 

**

The game, in as much as it is a game, changes somewhat over time.

Jaskier moves to leave their camp for a nearby tree and Geralt tells him _wait_. He nearly breaks and asks, then, but he sees the hesitation in Geralt’s gaze, the traces of something akin to longing, and he decides he can indulge him. He reseats himself on the ground, ignoring the strange thrill that races through him at following Geralt’s command, and continues their conversation as if nothing had happened.

Geralt waits until he’s shifting where he sits, crossing his legs back and forth restlessly, until he tells him to go. Jaskier leaves the camp in a hurry, thighs pressed together as best he can, and can’t hold back his sigh of relief when he finally lets go.

So now the game is this: Geralt denies Jaskier his relief, tells him to wait and he does, fidgety and anxious, until his witcher, his gaze heated and unblinkingly focused on his every movement, decides he can go. Every time the denial and permission both send a jolt of something heated through Jaskier’s gut as he wonders how far this could go, how much Geralt could ask him to hold, how publically he could ask him to do it. Jaskier’s thoughts briefly slip into a fantasy: attempting to excuse himself from a group of strangers at an event only to have Geralt at his side growling at him to wait, leaving him squirming and helpless in front of people who now all know _exactly_ how badly he needs to relieve himself. The idea staggers him with a mix of humiliation and arousal in equal measures. 

So, okay. He understands the appeal of this game. What’s more, he can take it further.

**

You don’t become a bard of Jaskier’s calibre without at least some ability to extrapolate people’s desires and he’s been travelling with Geralt for decades now. He knows when there’s something the witcher wants but isn’t sure how to say. He knows the purpose of this game now, what it’s been building to. 

He knows Geralt wants to watch him wet himself. 

He’s not opposed to the idea, he’s finding, not at all. After his initial embarrassment he’d found he was rather enjoying Geralt taking control in _that_ area and the thought of squirming under the witcher’s gaze, trembling with the effort of keeping it all in and then, finally, _with Geralt’s permission_ , letting go into his trousers right in front of him, his witcher hard and aching to touch……well, it was appealing. But Geralt’s not going to take the next step himself, he never does, edging closer and closer to what he wants but leaving Jaskier to close the last of the gap. The fact he’d pushed this so far at all suggests it’s something important to him, something he’s desperate for. Jaskier always _enjoys_ giving his witcher what he wants and he credits that with his decision to avoid the privy for the day without Geralt having to ask, waiting until his need is a constant, urgent distraction, before subtly leaning close to Geralt in the middle of the village’s market and breathing out, “Gods, I need to piss.” 

Geralt chokes on nothing and his gaze darkens instantly. Immediately he takes hold of Jaskier’s wrist and all but drags him back to their room at the inn, kissing him hungrily as soon as the door closes behind them. Geralt’s been fucking Jaskier for long enough that he knows exactly how to get him begging for it and here, with his witcher touching him like he _needs_ to, Jaskier feels ready to burst already. He can feel the pressure in his midsection competing with his arousal to the degree that he’s not entirely sure he minds which he indulges first. But now he has him where he wants him and with the firm reassurance of Jaskier’s arousal pressing against him, Geralt is suddenly back in control, pulling away, looking at him with something approaching a smirk.

“I wasn’t finished.”

“You weren’t…..y-you’re not finished _now_ , Geralt! For fuck’s sake don’t _stop_!”

__

“At the market,” oh Geralt’s smirking in earnest now. It’s an attractive look on him. “There are still some supplies I need to get. You’ll have to wait until I get back.” That _bastard_. Jaskier mentally takes back every kind word he’s said on Geralt’s compassionate nature.

__

Not to be outdone he crosses his legs, shoots Geralt a pleading look and chokes out a strained “ _hurry_ ”. If Geralt’s going to leave him wanting and desperate Jaskier can at least return the favour. 

__

Geralt visibly swallows and leaves the room in two strides, slamming the door so hard behind him that a candle falls from its place on the windowsill. 

__

Jaskier smiles to himself. 

__

_Perfect_.

__

**

__

Admittedly Jaskier’s not a witcher himself but he’s been travelling with one for long enough to know that celandine, verbena and ergot seeds simply aren’t this hard to come by. Not unless Geralt bypassed the market entirely and went to forage for them himself in the nearby woods. Fuck, Jaskier hopes he didn’t do that. Either way Geralt’s left him distractingly hard and uncomfortably desperate and is _clearly_ making him wait longer on purpose. Geralt always likes to make him wait, likes it when he’s right on the edge for as long as he can stand it, but Jaskier suspects this delay might be intended just as much to be an opportunity for him to opt out without comment. Well, fuck that. 

__

The wait has done nothing to lessen Jaskier’s arousal, which only grows as he thinks of Geralt, eager and hopeful and craving him, delaying his own pleasure as much as he is Jaskier’s, but it _has_ made him increasingly aware of the heavy pressure in his bladder and he’s really starting to struggle.

__

Only a few minutes in he’d decided to search for trousers he’s less fond of, settling on a lighter pair, the matching shirt of which had long since been lost to splatters of various _things_ from Geralt’s hunts. He’s pretty sure Geralt uses the remaining fabric scraps to clean his swords now. He slips off his previous pair and briefly considers forgoing trousers entirely when the urgent pressure lessens somewhat but…. 

__

He thinks of Geralt watching his release, unmistakable in the light fabric, grits his teeth and pulls them on. 

__

It doesn’t take long after that for Jaskier to resort to pacing restlessly, periodically stopping to squirm and whimper to himself. A brief, ill-fated attempted to play his lute for a distraction had brought him dangerously close to leaking the second he’d taken his attention from his bladder and he soon finds himself in the middle of the room, one hand clutching between his crossed legs, hunched over, breathing hard and… 

__

“ _Fuck_.” 

__

….well, there’s Geralt. 

__

His witcher’s on him in seconds, effortlessly backing him up against the wall and picking up exactly where he left off. The movement sends an urgent jolt of need through Jaskier’s body even as he groans in pleasure at Geralt’s manhandling and, for a moment, he’s sure he’s about to lose it. He clenches his hand in Geralt’s hair with a strangled gasp. 

__

“Something you want?” Geralt asks him with such blatantly insincere flippancy that Jaskier almost laughs out of sheer affection for his witcher. He couldn’t keep holding it through a laugh, can barely keep holding it as it is, and instead lets out a long, low whine that makes Geralt growl.

__

“You’ve been waiting all day, haven’t you?” 

__

Jaskier nods, not quite trusting his voice right now.

__

“You needed it when we ate, you crossed your legs when I poured your drink. Bit your lip.” 

__

Jaskier bites his lip again and Geralt groans.

__

Geralt grinds himself teasingly slowly against Jaskier, presses his nose against the side of his neck and inhales deeply.

__

“Do you know how fucking _good_ you smell when you’re desperate?”

__

“ _Geralt_!” Jaskier can’t help but cry out at that, blushing, squirming and so urgently needing his relief and his witcher.

__

Geralt lowers himself to the floor, jostling Jaskier’s full bladder uncomfortably as he pulls the bard with him and positions him on his lap, one steadying hand between his shoulder blades while the other presses directly into his bladder. Jaskier’s squirming is growing frantic now and he’s achingly hard, grinding desperately against Geralt’s firm thigh for relief or release he doesn’t know anymore lost in a haze of pressure and pain mixed with overwhelming _pleasure_. He can feel the thick line of Geralt’s cock through his trousers and he’d love to feel it in him, filling him up when he’s already so _full_ but there’s no time anymore, he’s going to come and he’s going to, oh gods, he’s going to _wet himself_ and neither’s going to take long.

__

“I need to-,” Jaskier gasps out, “fuck, _Geralt_ , please I’m going to- _ah_ Geralt!” His words are lost to a broken moan as Geralt _finally_ takes his hand from Jaskier’s bladder and palms his cock through his trousers. 

__

It doesn’t take much for Jaskier to come, and really he would worry for his reputation if he wasn’t still so overwhelmed by _need_ , muffling a cry in Geralt’s shoulder and then immediately, desperately, trying to stand up as his aching bladder reaches its limit and he starts to leak. 

__

Geralt murmurs an encouragement into his ear and holds him still, even leaving his _hand_ in place so he can _feel_ Jaskier’s _piss_ and the bard would protest but the release of pressure is distracting, so intense, so _good_ it feels akin to a second orgasm. He’s reduced to choked little gasps and whimpers, glancing down briefly to see that the dark patch spreading across his crotch is showing up just as well against the fabric as he’d hoped. _Good_. Hopefully Geralt appreciates it, that lovely, perverted bastard. Geralt’s own orgasm, brought by Jaskier’s hand, follows soon after, a flattering testament to just how appealing he’d found the sight of Jaskier’s release. He groans his way through it, resting his head against Jaskier’s when he’s done with a whispered _thank you_. 

__

**

__

A little later and a lot cleaner Jaskier decides the afterglow won’t be completely ruined if they talk about it before they sleep.

__

“Did you want this? After the rotfiend?” he asks, lazily trailing a hand over Geralt’s chest and enjoying the way the lingering boneless feeling of his relief mingles with his post-orgasm contentment.

__

“Hm. Yes.” Something unpleasant flickers across Geralt’s face, “Sorry.” 

__

“No need,” Jaskier manages through a yawn, burrowing his head against Geralt’s neck, “I liked it. Liked it a lot actually.”

__

“You were _scared_ Jaskier.” 

__

Of course Geralt’s managed to find a way to make himself feel guilty over this.

__

“I’m not scared now Geralt. I’m not scared with you.” Jaskier feels Geralt relax a little at that and he hopes the sentiment, the love and trust behind his words, hits home. 

__

Fuck it. 

__

He has to ask.

__

“Geralt?”

__

“Hmm?”

__

“Can you really smell when I have to piss?”

__

He falls asleep to the quiet sound of Geralt’s laughter.

__

**Author's Note:**

> To all three people in the entire universe who might have enjoyed this I love you
> 
> edit because I totally forgot to say when i first posted this: if you liked this and you're interested I also have a tumblr for This Sort Of Thing (diuretic-dandelions) please feel free to come and talk headcanons at any time!


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